Chapter Eighteen
Illias
“Flee also youthful lusts: but follow righteousness, faith, charity, peace, with them that call on the Lord out of a pure heart.”
Illias didn’t know what to expect after they came to their agreement.
Every nerve was on edge in anticipation.
When would Cantrell meet with him again?
What would Cantrell do to him? Would Cantrell touch him again?
Give him another mark to wear proudly on display?
Illias’ cock twitched at the memory of Cantrell’s teeth sinking into his neck.
It was the first time anyone had ever bit him and left a visible mark.
He’d received plenty of hickeys before but they were nothing compared to the deep color that Cantrell left behind.
The mark was long faded though, and Illias craved another more than he’s ever craved something before.
“Whatcha daydreaming about, handsome?” Jasmine asked, leaning against the counter while he prepped more lemons for the night.
“None of your business.”
“God, Illias, you’ve been so boring lately,” she groaned, tossing her head back. “Did you get a boyfriend or something?”
Or something.
“Maybe I’ve found the Lord,” he answered smugly.
Maverick barked out a laugh and looked up from his papers. “You? Found the Lord? I’ll believe that when that nose ring of yours goes in the trash.”
“My nose ring has nothing to do with my devotion to God, but thank you for your input, peanut gallery,” Illias scoffed.
Jasmine rolled her eyes and placed a hand on his shoulders. “Illias, darling, honeypot, sweetums, apple of my fucking eye, there is no way in Hell I will ever believe you magically became so religious that you stopped flirting with everything with a dick in less than a month.”
He tossed his knife on the table and turned to look at her with mock disbelief. “First of all, I did not flirt with everything with a dick!”
She made a sound of doubt.
“Second of all, just because I’m not chasing ass doesn’t mean I’m not flirting. My tips are proof enough of that.”
Maverick pointed his pen at Illias but looked at Jasmine. “He’s got a good point. The boy brings in ridiculous tips.”
“It’s my award-winning smile,” he boasted.
“He does have a gorgeous smile,” a customer noted from the bar as he tilted his beer bottle in Illias’ direction.
“Thank you,” he fake gushed.
Jasmine slapped Illias’ shoulder. “Ah! Look at what the cat dragged in! Father Cantrell! I am so glad you joined us tonight.”
Illias choked on his spit and covered his mouth with his fist. Cantrell looked at Illias but he turned to avoid embarrassing himself further.
Jasmine sauntered over to Cantrell and leaned against the counter.
“Our dear boy Illias was just telling us how he’s found the Lord.
Tell us Father, has he truly found the Lord? ”
Cantrell’s eyebrows rose and he cleared his throat. “Well, he has been attending Mass regularly since his return to Dunwich, but—”
Illias whipped his head around just in time to catch Cantrell looking over Jasmine’s shoulder at him.
“—he could probably use a few more confessional visits.”
Is it possible to die of embarrassment?
Illias regained his composure as Cantrell walked away from the bar to go sit down at one of the tables.
Illias fixed Cantrell’s usual then left the bar.
He chose the same table as the night they first met.
Far right corner with one dingy light that provided barely enough light to see.
Illias pushed his shoulders back to accentuate his height as he got closer and smirked when Cantrell’s eyes drifted down his body.
Illias bent at the hip, jutting his ass out, and placed a folded napkin under Cantrell’s drink before sliding it over to him.
Cantrell’s eyes fell to the napkin, eyebrows knitting together.
“I figured you might want my address in case I’m”—Illias coughed gently into his fist, smirk never dropping— “too sick to go to the church for confession.”
Cantrell paled. “I absolutely cannot take that,” he whispered. “Have you lost your mind?”
Illias shrugged one shoulder as his head tilted towards the same side. “Maybe, but think about it, Father. Do you want to risk someone hearing my confessions?”
Illias patted the table then went back to work before he got scolded by Maverick for flirting with the good Father. Even if, by technicality, Illias was, he didn’t need to hear it from Maverick.
Back behind the bar, Illias went about business as normal.
Every so often, he’d glance towards the back of the bar, but Cantrell never needed anything.
He kept to himself the whole night, sipping on iced tea and reading.
Illias tried to think of excuses to go back to the floor to talk to Cantrell but Jasmine was in charge of taking care of tables that night, leaving him stuck behind the bar without escape.
Late into the night, Illias noticed Cantrell working his way through the late-night crowd. Illias grabbed Jasmine when she came back from the floor with a pile of dirty cups. “I’m taking a quick break. I’ll be back in five.”
“If you’re not, I’ll send Maverick after you myself.”
He rolled his eyes then left the bar, hurrying through the crowd in hopes that he could catch Cantrell before it was too late.
Illias forgot to pick his foot far enough off the ground as he stepped through the door, the toe of his shoe catching on the small lift and causing him to trip.
A small laugh caught his ear. Perfect. Illias righted himself and smiled sheepishly when he saw Cantrell standing in front of him. “Hey.”
“Impatient, are we?” Cantrell raised an eyebrow, but his eyes sparkled with a hint of playfulness.
“Just a little. I—” Illias paused when he heard loud laughter just on the other side of the bar door. He walked towards Cantrell then grabbed him by the wrist.
“What’re you—”
Not giving him a chance to finish, Illias darted around the corner with Cantrell in tow just as a trio burst through the bar door. Caught up in their conversation, they didn’t notice Illias and Cantrell disappear into the alley.
“Oh, thank you,” Cantrell said, watching the trio stumble across the parking lot.
“Don’t mention it. I figured you wouldn’t want to get seen with me.” Illias winced. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—whatever, forget it.” His heart pounded. Why am I freaking out? Quick, think of something. “The mark you left is gone.”
“And?” Cantrell stepped forward. “Is there something you’re trying to ask?”
He reached up and stroked his knuckles across Illias’ cheek, fingers cold against his scorching skin. Illias leaned into the delicate touch. “Please.”
“You haven’t asked me to do anything yet. You have to ask before you start begging.”“Will you mark me again? Please, it’s all I’ve thought about since it faded.”
Cantrell took another step and Illias’ back met the brick wall. “Is that so?”
“It showed everyone I flirted with that I’m yours.”
Cantrell grabbed Illias’ jaw and craned his neck to the side. Arousal seared through him, igniting every nerve. Cantrell nipped the underside of Illias’ jaw. “You want to be claimed by your priest?”
“Please Father.”
Cantrell sunk his teeth into Illias neck and sucked on the skin.
He clamped his mouth closed before his cry could escape, breathing shakily through his nose instead.
Illias’ cock strained against his zipper, pent-up desire running rampant through him from such a simple act.
He grabbed the front of Cantrell’s shirt, pulling him closer while arching into him.
Cantrell released the skin then kissed the spot gently.
“There you are. A nice dark mark claiming you as mine.”
“God please, let me take you home,” Illias begged.
“Greedy thing, aren’t you?”
“Please. Haven’t I been good enough?” Illias voice cracked at the end of his sentence and he prayed Cantrell didn’t catch it.
He slid his thigh between Illias’ legs unexpectedly, causing him to moan. “You’ve been well behaved.” Cantrell kissed Illias’ neck again. “I suppose a slight reward can’t hurt.”
“Fuck.” Illias’ hips jerked against Cantrell’s leg.
“Sensitive and greedy,” he chuckled. “A dangerous combination,” he whispered in Illias’ ear, making him shiver.
Cantrell pressed his thigh harder into Illias’ groin.
Illias ground against it without a second thought, desperate to get off.
He hid his face in the crook of Cantrell’s neck, muffling his ragged breathing and soft noises.
Illias moved quicker, inching himself closer to his end in an embarrassingly short amount of time.
“I’m close,” he groaned, “I’m so fucking close.”
“Already?” Cantrell mused and Illias whined, high and needy. “Go on then, come all over yourself for me. Make a mess in your underwear so you can remember how desperate you are to be controlled by your priest.”
Illias moaned, hips jerking forward a final time as he came in his underwear. He lifted his head then dropped it back against the wall, closing his eyes and panting.
“Good boy,” Cantrell praised, voice low and deep in Illias’ ear. “Satisfied?”
“Hardly.” Illias peered at Cantrell through his eyelashes and smirked. “You’ve heard my confessions, Father.”
Cantrell stepped back and began to straighten his clothes. “Perhaps your next penance will be for your greed and gluttony then?”
“Illias!” Jasmine’s voice made both of them jump.
Illias cleared his throat. “Yeah?” he called out, voice cracking.
Jasmine’s high-pitched cackle filled the alley. “Oh, I am so telling on you! Maverick!”
Illias let out a breath of relief when she didn’t come into the alleyway and pushed himself off the wall. “I should go back in.” His eyes traveled down Cantrell’s body to the bulge in his pants. “But if you’d like, I can—”
“Go back to work. It’s best if we don’t linger for too long.”
“Of course,” he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “When…when will I be able to see you again?”
Cantrell’s eyes softened. “I’ll let you know.” He pulled the napkin out of his pocket and Illias smiled. “Now go on, and behave.”
“Yes, Father.”
Illias walked back into the bar only to be hit by a balled-up bar rag. He caught it before it fell then looked in the direction of where Maverick sat. “Next time we call you out on your bullshit, you better have a better excuse than the Lord because that neck of yours doesn’t lie.”
“What’s his name? Is he tall, dark, and handsome like you?” Jasmine purred.
This time Illias chucked the bar rag at her.
She dodged, resulting in it hitting Maverick square in the face.
Laughter erupted from the customers at the bar but Jasmine and Illias stared each other down in a silent battle of who would take the fall.
Maverick sighed, placing the rag on the counter, and shook his head.
Relieved that Maverick didn’t say anything else, Illias went to the sink behind the counter and washed his hands so he could get back to work.
“Really though, who is he?” Jasmine pestered, poking him in the shoulder.
“Why do you care so much?”
“Because I need to know who tamed all that sexy energy of yours?”
“Oh, believe me,” he grinned at her, “No one’s tamed anything.”